


If You Should Ever Want to be Loved by Anyone (Its Not Unusual)

by Lady_Devinity



Series: Tom Jones [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, dad!spy, lots of non-canon elements in this one, spy!dad, spy's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Devinity/pseuds/Lady_Devinity
Summary: This is a companion piece to "It's Not Unusual".This time its from Spy's point of view. He was haunted by the spirit of Tom Jones and his own foolish lies.
Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Series: Tom Jones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599301
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	If You Should Ever Want to be Loved by Anyone (Its Not Unusual)

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted a companion piece to my own story but who would write it for me? Sadly, it had to be me.
> 
> I had up a lot of Spy's background because we don't know much about him. So its not as tightly linked to the comics

**If You Should Ever Want to be Loved by Anyone**

_(It’s Not Unusual)_

The boy had been blessed with his mother’s features; her nose and high check bones and the shape of her jaw. His mother had claimed he had her buck teeth too, that she had hers fixed as a young girl looking to attract a good job. But from the nose up, the boy was all his father. Yet it wasn’t staring into his own blue eyes that had shocked Spy as he held his infant son. It was the fact that Jeremy had the exact same hair colour as Spy’s own grandfather. Considering Spy had been born with darker hair he had not realised he still carried his grandfather’s colouring in his DNA.

Spy had thought about his grandfather as he held his dying son in his arms. It was a fleeting thought, a moment where he said to himself ‘no one else will ever have Grand-père’s hair now.’ But it was a thought he hadn’t been able to linger on, caught up in maintaining the disguise and confessing and his desperate need to make sure that Scout died easy, died content, died knowing his father cared.

The first time he saw the young man had been a shock. He had been in a terrible mood, knowing that his son had just turned twenty-one mere days ago and was now a man with no notion of who he was. Jeremy deserved his heritage, his language, his grandparents. Instead, he had only his mother’s culture and family to guide him. And Delilah was a good woman and her other children had seemed to be good boys so Spy had been willing to leave Jeremy in their care. It had been better that he be raised by an experienced mother, one who knew how to bring up a strong son, instead of being raised by a father that had been tailed by a hitman on more than one occasion. Spy had never forgiven himself for nearly getting his beloved child killed through his own immaturity. And, still, Spy had missed Jeremy terribly and it hurt to miss such an important birthday in a boy’s life.

He will never know if it was God or the Administrator that had chosen to punish him for his sins.

Yet it could only be a punishment. How could it not have been? Spy had abandoned his would-be bride, his would-be-adopted sons and his only recently walking baby in order to protect them from his lifestyle. And yet his child had shown up right on the doorstep of Spy’s job site, staring at Miss Pauling (another person too young for their job) with love struck eyes. Spy had wondered if the fight between Spy and the hitman in Jeremy’s bedroom had imprinted on the babe, forever traumatizing him. Or had the boy found out who his father was and done something drastic to meet him?

“Spy, this is the newest member of the team. He’s called the Scout.” Miss Pauling had introduced them so casually, as if she knew nothing of their relationship.

And Jeremy had smiled so brashly, so full of youth and self-confidence, that Spy knew that the boy had never even heard of his father before.

XxXxX

After that, Spy had gone through a great deal of trouble to break into the data admin offices in order to steal Jeremy’s files. The boy had a rap sheet the size of a novella. He had no qualms about hurting people, although he always stopped short of murder. His report cards were in there and teachers’ notes. The boy couldn’t read, couldn’t write, likely had a learning disability. But he was faster than most professional athletes, built sturdy and strong enough to climb bare handed up the side of buildings. Grew up American so he knew how to shoot but preferred a baseball bat. Good at being able to break into places and stealing things but loud enough that he’d fail on the escape… unless someone else was there to take the stolen goods from him. Targeted for recruitment due to all of that and likely would never have considered mercenary work in the first place if left to his own devices.

The Scout class was meant to get in and out, with the enemy’s intelligence. Jeremy’s DNA was programmed into Respawn so he wouldn’t stay dead if he was killed but he was labelled low priority for medical intervention outside of Respawn. Non-priority for rescue missions if he got caught when Respawn was down. Jeremy’s skills were impressive enough that he was worth hiring but the fact that he couldn’t be relied on to kill meant that he was expendable.

Spy knew in that moment that he couldn’t be a father to his son. That he couldn’t even call him Jeremy. He had to distance himself so that he could be cruel when needed. He had no intention of calling Delilah after all this time to tell her that he had finally gotten to know their son long enough for him to get killed. So Spy would be harsh, would be critical, would push Scout to become stronger and faster and more valuable than even the Administrator could imagine.

He didn’t bring a child into this world just so someone could take them out of it.

XxXxX

“You ever gonna tell the sprout you’re his dad for real?” Sniper had asked.

“Non.” Spy said, without looking up from his newspaper.

Sniper had sighed and grabbed Spy’s coffee. The sharpshooter ignored the glare sent his way and took a deep swallow. “He deserves to hear it before he dies and stays that way. It’s ridiculous that you let him believe that Tom Jones, of all people, is his father. And everyday Scout just doubles down on it.”

“It makes him happy, non?” Spy asked.

“Take it from someone who just found out his dad wasn’t his real dad, Spook.” Sniper said. “He’ll want to know the truth. He’ll want to know you. I was lucky that I had my adoptive parents. But Scout only had his mom. There was never a father in the picture. And his life wasn’t easy.”

The only reason Spy tolerated Sniper’s insistence on bringing the topic of Scout’s paternity up over and over again was the fact that Sniper had been there when Spy had found Scout lying in a pool of his own blood, taken out by what looked like the robot version of Spy himself ( _Mon_ _dieu_ , it would have been better if any other robot had gotten the hit in. It felt like yet another punishment to have his son killed by his replica father). Sniper had been the one to push Spy out of his daze and towards his child. Sniper had been the one to see Spy run from Scout’s gaze, so like his father’s, before he had chosen to wear the Tom Jones disguise. It was Sniper who sent a look at Spy that read ‘Really? I’m standing here with my dick out and covered in Medic’s handiwork and I still look less foolish than you right now.’ That shared trauma meant that Spy had to listen to the Australian even if he would have preferred to eat his mask.

And Spy was aware of how idiotic it had been to confess to being Scout’s father as Tom Jones. But he had not thought that the boy would live and he had thought that the boy would prefer any father but him. If he was honest, Spy also did not know how to be honest in his own skin. He had spent most of his own life lying to others and he had told Scout far more lies and half-truths than actual truths over the years. So he took another’s face. Jones was simply the first face he thought of. He had spent five and a half months irritated at Tom Jones’ face; figurines of the man permanently seared into Spy’s memory. He had not had much else to do in that prison cell besides plot his escape, kill Joey Murders and ruminate on his anger that Scout had wasted his and Delilah’s entire life savings on Tom Jones memorabilia.

It was a bitter thing to realise that he could be as stupid as his son. Spy had known that Scout and Jones were about the same age.

At the time that hadn’t mattered, though. At the time, Spy had simply been holding his dying child and trying to find the words to let Scout know that he had had a father who loved him all his life. He simply wanted to find a way to tell the runner that would cause the least distress. Scout had the right to be eased into his death. And he had been eased. Scout had been so distracted by Tom Jones that he didn’t seem to notice that he was tired and cold and injured. Spy, however, had noticed. He had noticed Scout’s blood soaking through the fabric of his disguise and into the fabric of his real clothes. He had felt Scout grow cold. Lived the moment he was gone.

Spy was disgusted that he didn’t stay dead.

Tom Jones was going to come back and haunt him.

Yet when Sniper had gone to pick Scout up to carry him back to the others, Spy hadn’t allowed it. Sniper may have been able to carry Scout comfortably, cradled close to the safety of his chest, but he wasn’t the boy’s father. Spy had been in no position to carry Scout with his ruined knee and plank-turned-crutch but Spy would be the one to clasp Scout close to his side and drag him back to the others. Once he had realised that he didn’t have to let Jeremy go he intended to hold on forever.

XxXxX

 _It’s not unusual to see me cry, I wanna die_ , Spy had hummed to himself as Scout sobbed his heart out. While trying to kill Soldier.

“Scout stop! Merasmus brought him back!” Demo had yelled, trying to pry the Bostonian off of Soldier. “He’s fine! Tom Jones is fine!”

Spy wondered if he would have inspired that kind of grief if he had been honest in the first place and had been the one to die. Would Scout have even noticed he was gone?

XxXxX

Scout was running his mouth as per usual, digging the knife of Spy’s cowardice in further. The espionage agent had thought it would get easier over time, listening to Scout tell everyone about Tom Jones. He could not explain why it irked him that Scout was so proud that another man was his father. Spy had seen the misspelled Sex Bomb tattoo, the plethora of Tom Jones merchandise that constituted Scout’s “savings.” The runner was likely Jones’ most devoted fan and Spy wished he had known that _before_ he had chosen to take on Jones’ face to confess that he was Scout’s father.

He had no right to be jealous. He did this to himself.

Yet it did not change that Scout’s loving praises of his “father” hurt. Particularly in that moment, when Scout had found himself with a captive audience consisting of the entire team, and Zhanna and Miss Pauling. It was Miss Pauling’s presence that encouraged Scout to be especially boisterous as he was intent on impressing her. Spy sighed, rubbed his eyes, and decides to distract himself by doing that which he did best- observing other people. Scout was standing dead center in the room, waving his hands in enthusiasm as he spoke, directing his words to everyone but only making eye contact with Miss Pauling. Miss Pauling was stood in front of the runner, one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. Clearly unimpressed. Spy did not think it likely that the woman would become his future daughter-in-law in this life or the next. Engie was sat on the loveseat with Pyro alongside him, attempting to teach the firebug how to repair a sentry. Demo was lying on the floor by their feet, drinking. As for Spy himself, he was sat in an armchair, with Sniper leaning on the armrest beside him. Spy briefly considered elbowing the man away from him but he had learned to tolerate the sharpshooter after sharing the moment of Jeremy’s passing.

None of this offered anything of any real interest. It certainly failed to distract Spy from Scout. However, there were still four other people in the room that could offer a distraction. And they were sharing the couch. Soldier and Zhanna were cuddled up together, with Zhanna sitting on the center cushion. Alongside her was Medic, who had proven to be quite fond of the woman. Yes, that was something that was very interesting. Most of the team had long harboured the opinion that Medic and Heavy were in some type of relationship. Spy, above the rest, had quite an amount of supporting data to suggest that. He was stereotypically French in this matter as he considered himself a connoisseur of romance. Yet his desire to see Heavy and Medic happily married had taken damage upon the team’s mass firing. Heavy had gone back to Russia and Medic had up-and-vanished. But to see Medic showing such fondness for a woman that could be his sister-in-law ignited Spy’s hopes. He’d have to help them along… without their knowledge.

It did not hurt that interfering with Heavy and Medic’s love life would be the perfect means to separate Spy’s thoughts from his son.

Then Spy noticed Heavy. The big man was standing in a corner, glaring Scout down. Spy did not like what he read there. It was a glare that he had received many times himself whenever Scout ranted about his parentage. Usually it meant ‘how long are you going to keep lying to your child?’ He had received it from every member of the team, except for maybe Pyro and obviously Scout… and never from Heavy. Not since the island. It was as if Heavy was trying to ask Scout ‘how long are you going to keep lying to yourself?’

It is a disturbing experience to be overcome in a moment of unexpected realization. That moment when your heart dropped down into your gut. _Did Scout know the truth and had rejected Spy outright?_

“You alright mate?” Sniper’s voice crashed down onto Spy’s head. “You stopped breathing there for a sec.”

What could he do but shrug? Spy could not voice his concerns in this room. Not with Scout right there to overhear and Heavy to, god forbid, confirm them. No, there could be no way that Scout knew. Spy had been so careful. Heavy must have merely been annoyed that Scout had swallowed the lie so easily, turning it into a part of his identity. It had been one of the weakest lies that Spy had ever told anyone. He was certain that there was no less likely candidate to father his loud-mouthed spawn.

“You do know that Tom Jones is only five years older than you right?” Apparently, Miss Pauling had agreed with him. Spy had braced himself for Scout’s instant denials, the accusations against the assistant’s math. Yet that had not been what occurred. Instead Scout, whom was known to talk faster than he thought, said “Well yeah. I’m his biggest fan. I know exactly how close in age we are. Plus I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered the greatest man alive was my dad _before_ I died that time considering I remember learning to walk in front of my dad.”

If his heart had been down in his gut before, it was now down in his balls. Scout knew all along that Tom Jones wasn’t his father. _Jeremy knew all along that Spy was._ Spy wondered what he had done wrong to be rejected by his child so immensely. He wondered what he had done right to be granted that one small blessing, that his child held the memory of one of Spy’s proudest moments.

And yet… what if Scout only thought he knew who his father was? His mother kept pictures of her late husband all over her home for her sons’ sake. Scout may have superimposed the man from the photos over his few paternal memories. Scout had never once mentioned that he did not have the same father as his brothers. Perhaps he had not known.

Spy had been too shocked to ask for clarification. Judging by the sudden silence in the room, everyone else was shocked as well. That was, everyone but Scout. He had paused for breath, for a response from Miss Pauling, and instead he had received this silence. His face was clouded in confusion, unaware of what he had said.

Spy was unable to decide if he wanted to question the younger man further or simply dust the whole affair under the carpet. He would not say that he was afraid of his son but he was aware of what he had done to hurt the boy. It had been bad enough to learn what that face looked like with dark eyes and bloodless cheeks. He did not need to see what it looked like in abject disappointment. Yet the world existed to punish men like Mann Co.’s RED team, often through each other. Sniper, well-meaning but as dumb as the rest of them, placed what was meant to be a comforting hand on Spy’s shoulder and asked Scout “You… remember your dad?”

Scout frowned, then paled to a colour disturbingly similar to his death pallor. “What? No. Shit, no. I mean… someone help me out here.” The runner looked around frantically for aide but the only assistance he received was _Zhanna_ confirming the truth. And Spy had not even realised that she knew. How much had he devastated himself with his own idiotic lies and poor parenting skills that he had failed to realise that Scout had an entire relationship with Zhanna? That Scout and Zhanna and (oh, so that was why Heavy glared at Scout and not Spy whenever Tom Jones was mentioned) and Heavy were close enough to openly discuss Scout’s secrets?

Spy flicked through every memory he had, every observation he had ever made, since Scout had first come to Teufort. He found no moments of recognition, no indications of any sort to indicate that Scout knew how they were related. The espionage agent was so distracted by the fact that he had _missed vital information about HIS SON_ that he did not even register Scout screaming at Zhanna and Demo. Did not notice anything going on around him, really, until Scout took a running leap that saw him clear Zhanna and Soldier and Medic on the couch before racing out the door.

“That was… something else.” Engie said.

Heavy had shrugged. “It had to happen eventually. He could not pretend Jones was father forever.”

“I did not know he even knew Jones was not his vater.” Medic commented. “And you didn’t tell me!”

“He is sort of like little brother. Felt wrong to share secrets.” Heavy said. Zhanna had nodded in agreement.

Engie sighed then and made to stand up. “Someone is going to have to talk to that boy before he does something irritational. I’ll go talk to him.”

Spy stood up. “I’ll go talk to him. This is my problem after all.”

They did not argue with him.

XxXxX

Scout had not been in his room. Yet his baseball and beloved bat still were so Scout would be back for them soon enough. Thus Spy choose to make himself comfortable, sitting on a relatively clean chair and cloaking himself. It took some time but his guess proved true. Scout must have simply taken a more circular route in order to avoid people. He had clearly been worried about it from the way he eased his bedroom door open and scanned the area for bodies. Spy imagined it was this surprisingly cautious behaviour that allowed the runner to get past sentries and capture intelligence. However, all that caution vanished when Scout failed to see Spy. The younger man burst into his room and tossed himself face first into his bed. Spy had been about to get up and confront him when Scout sat up.

Those were tears in his eyes.

It was a discomforting feeling to be the cause of that distress. Spy decided to wait and see if Scout would manage to keep the tears at bay or if he decided to cry. The Frenchman needed to approach this gently. However, he had not been expecting Scout to grab his wallet and jacket before packing up his baseball gear. He certainly wasn’t expecting Scout to start to climb up and out of the window.

Miss Pauling was still in the base. If she caught Scout running away then she’d report him to the Administrator and he’d be taken out permanently. Spy was not losing him again.

“I did not peg you for someone who ran away.”

It looked like it hurt when Scout hit the floor after falling from the window. However, Spy did not care. It would hurt more if Miss Pauling bashed the boy’s head in with a shovel in a mine somewhere. Not even Scout’s angry glare in Spy’s direction would make him feel remorse for scaring him. He waved aside Scout’s comment about it being his job to run away. There was running away and then there was _running_ _away_.

Spy needed to de-cloak for the rest of this conversation. “How far did you think you’d get before the Voice sent Miss Pauling to eliminate you because you violated your contract?”

That had offended his son. “Miss Pauling would never!” But then the runner decided that his shoes were more interesting than meeting his father’s eyes. “I’m not going to violate my contract. Just needed to get away from here for a day or two. Was gonna stay within Teufort’s boarders.”

Thank god. Miss Pauling would willingly ignore a few days of Scout going AWOL. “Well, that is actually a reasonable plan for once. But why do you need to leave?”

“Why do ya care?”

That had wounded. Did Scout really not think that Spy cared about him? Although he had not been the best father, Spy thought that his presence here meant something. If it didn’t… well, Spy would simply ask the question that he most wanted answered since Scout had announced he knew who his father was. “Tell me what you remember of your father.”

“Back in Russia, I starting remembering stuff. Told myself it was just a dream. I had lost a fight to a bear while in Amelia Earhart’s Hotdog suit so it was a good time for unusual dreams.” Scout looked like every word was causing him a physical blow. “I was walking, in nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt of what I think was a googly eyed France. My Ma was watching over me by the recliner, where my dad was sat smoking a pipe. I remember thinking they were happy and maybe even kinda proud so I think it was my first time walking. But, like, I coulda been wrong. Dad’s face was… covered… so I coulda misread his expression. He left us so he couldn’t have been that proud.”

And just like that, Spy was back in Boston. His mother was after sending him a large care package for Jeremy, along with a long letter telling Spy that she expected him to bring the baby over to France for her to spoil. That she expected Delilah and the rest of the boys to join them when school let out for Spring Break so she could meet all her grandchildren. It was Spy’s mother that bought that ridiculous shirt knowing that the American Delilah would find it amusing. And Delilah had loved it. She immediately put it on little Jeremy and cooed at him, telling her little boy that he’d have to beat off all the girls in France and America combined with a stick. Spy had been more concerned with the tobacco that his father had sent than the shirt. It was while smoking that familiar blend, the one that always made Spy feel close to his own father, that he witnessed Jeremy take his first steps. Even though one of them was half way across the world, it felt like three generations of proud Frenchmen were together in that small American home.

And to hear Scout say that he didn’t think his father was proud of him _hurt._

“Jeremy.”

Scout just shook his head and finally stood up, brushing dirt off his pants.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’m used ta ya not liking me. Not gonna lie. I did want a dad who wanted me but I get why you’d wouldn’t want me. It makes sense that I’d be the reason you left Mom.”

“Why do you think you were the reason I left?”

And Scout told him. About how he knew that Spy wasn’t afraid of being with a woman with seven children already. Pointing out that Spy had chosen to stay in the States instead of going home to France. Threw it in his face that Spy had been about to leave Scout behind in Teufort after they were fired (and Spy knew that looked bad. Scout had two broken arms and no means to fend for himself at that time).

Then suddenly Scout was screaming, no, _wailing_ “If I wasn’t a problem for you then you’d be nicer to me. I ain’t blind. You tolerate _everyone_ on the team better than me. Even Sniper and you hate snipers in general!”

His baby was crying in a way that he had never seen him do before. Even as an infant Scout hadn’t cried with that much heartbreak. Scout was trying to mop up his tears with his wrist bandages while also avoiding eye contact with Spy and was simply failing at pulling himself together.

This was why Scout had clung so desperately to Tom Jones as his father wasn’t it?

Spy could move almost as fast as his son when he wanted, if the distance was short enough. And it took no time to cross the room to his devastated little boy. He delicately reached out to hold his shoulder, not wanting to cross any boundaries that Scout may have drawn between them. Spy couldn’t tell him all the details of the hitman that had broken into Jeremy’s nursery. He didn’t like to think about it. But he could talk about how he was too young to be the kind of partner Delilah needed. How his age blinded him to the dangers of his work. Young men thought they were invincible and failed to think about those around them.

It was only fair that Scout pointed out that they had spent the last seven years together. As two grown men who could take care of themselves.

Yet Scout hadn’t known that he had been marked as expendable for the first few years of his contract. So Spy told him that. He did not mention how relieved he had been when Scout had had his first kill as that was not something to be relieved by. Yet he had been. Scout had brought down an enemy, deliberately and with little discomfort, because the man had been in his way. Maybe Scout had taken to killing so easily because he knew his first kill would not stay dead but that did not matter. What mattered was the boy was willing to play as hard as the others and even excelled at his work. Spy had known then that Scout could keep up with professional mercenaries and thus was not as easily replaceable as once believed.

But so much time had passed since Spy had held that fear within his chest and it had been too late to tell Scout the truth.

“Still don’t explain why you like me the least out of everyone.”

The boy was still fixated on that? Spy supposed that he should not have been surprised but it still irritated him. He could not tell if the runner was deliberately playing obtuse or if Spy was simply bad at comfort or if it was the language and cultural barrier. Had Jeremy grown up a Frenchman instead of an American, Spy would have been able to rely on the memory of his own father. His father had known many ways to use words to convey his intended meanings, was masterful in a Frenchman’s affection. However, that was not a path that Spy wished to walk. Had he done so he would have to admit that he robbed his father of the chance of knowing his grandson. Instead Spy thought of what it had felt like to see Scout lying in his own blood, trying to convince Sniper, Spy and himself that he was fine, just so very tired. No one else had ever or would ever make Spy feel that horror again. Not even Scout himself.

“Mon fils, I would not even blink if one of our teammates got themselves permanently killed. That is the nature of our work. But seeing you bleed out stopped me in my tracks. I am harder on you because I need you to be the strongest. I need you to be able to get yourself out of situations that I cannot get you out of. _I will not have you bleed out in my arms again.”_

And finally, finally, Scout looked at him with those same pale eyes Spy saw in the mirror every morning. Of course the team had figured out that Scout was his. They would have had to be blind not to.

“So that was you?!”

Spy felt an eye twitch. Obviously, it had been him. They had even spoken before Spy decided to wear the disguise. “Did you really think Tom Jones showed up in the middle of a blood bath between Grey Mann’s robot army and our team?”

“I thought I was high from oxygen depletion! And, well, okay I knew it was you but I thought Sniper made you say it. But… but you know that Tom Jones is too young to be my dad! You commented on his age at the bank! Like, I always thought the last thing I’d see before I died was Tom Jones cause he’s, like, gotta be a literal frickin’ angel with dat voice. But I wasn’t expecting him to be all ‘I dropped a sex bomb on your mom!’ What were you thinkin!?”

“Scout.” That had been an attack on Spy’s pride. He was used to being thought of as one of the intelligent members of RED. He did not need his son pointing out the opposite.

“DAD!” That ‘you are an idiot’ tone was truly getting under Spy’s skin.

“Fine. I panicked all right? I did not know how to handle having the only time I held you since you were born be as you died. Tom Jones was the first person to pop into my mind.” In this Spy knew few parents would fault him. There was a terror in losing a child that made one lose what little sense they had. Spy, however, did not like thinking of himself as being like other people. And then the fog of his exasperation lifted from his mind and he realised what Scout had yelled in his own exasperation. Amazed, warmed and yet disbelieving, Spy had to ask “Did you just call me Dad?”

Scout actually blushed in embarrassment but he was shyly grinning. A truly loveable face when he wasn’t bragging to everyone around him. He looked so much like his mother then. “Well, you are my dad aren’t ya? Or do you prefer Spy?”

He’d prefer ‘mon père’ or ‘papa’ but it was not his place to choose. And the English diminutive of father had its own sweet charm. Still… “I haven’t the right to ‘Dad.’”

“Uh-huh. So does this mean that you do sorta like me?”

“I do not want to say anything so embarrassing.” What he really meant was ‘I’m embarrassed that I convinced my own son that I do not even like him.’

“C’mon. You can say it. You like me a little bit.” Spy still did not know if Scout was asking out of desperation or if he was just teasing.

“You are my son and I do love you very much but you are making it very hard to like you right now.” Spy snapped. If the boy was teasing him then Spy was going to push Scout off a building during the next battle.

And oh… what had he done now? Scout was crying all over again, his whole body wrapped in emotion, but this time without trying to hide the tears. Truly at a loss for words, Spy had simply stood there until Scout threw his arms around Spy’s shoulders and sobbed into the older man’s clavicle. Spy tensed in anticipation of a physical fight until he realised he was being hugged. Any tension that he held melted away and he held Jeremy tight. He made some throw away joke, about tears and blood, thankful for another opportunity to just hold the person he should have held so much more in life. He even ran a hand through that wonderous hair, so like his grandfather Jérémie’s. He may have even cried… although he had no qualms about stabbing Scout if he ever told anyone that.

Well, maybe some qualms. Spy would just have to stab whoever Scout told instead.

And to think, all it took was a little death, corporate warfare and Tom Jones to reunite their family.

**END**


End file.
